His Dancer by Darcy Rose
Ace
"This is a mistake."
I straighten my collar and take the keys from John's hand. "I don't recall asking for your opinion," I say coldly in response to his comment.
"She's a civilian—" he starts before I cut him off.
Rounding on the man, I shove him against the nearest surface—a hard brick wall—and slam my forearm into his throat. "One who you brought into this," I growl. "You took the wrong girl, and now I have to fix it."
"By courting the damn bitch?" John hisses.
Rage descends over me, and I push my forearm down into his esophagus, crushing it under my grip until he starts to struggle. My eyes settle on his face as I feel my irritation flow through my veins. "You will speak to her with nothing but respect. Am I fucking clear?" I snap. "You are the one who fucked this up. Not her. Call her that again, and I'll rip your fucking tongue out and shove it up your ass. Am I clear?"
John's face slowly turns a light blue, darkening with each second as he tries to nod his head. When he finally manages to mouth an acknowledgment, I shove away from him and take a step back as he collapses to the floor, coughing and sputtering.
"Remember your fucking place, John," I say as I crack my neck and step around his body, reaching for the door. "And don't question me again."
Several minutes later, I'm in the car, my hands squeezing the steering wheel as lights fly by over the windshield. I roll the window down and let the fresh air flood the interior of the Audi R8. A part of me recognizes that John is partially right.
My involvement with Cara is unusual. Unprecedented. Yet I can't seem to stop myself, and as I pull up in front of her dorm, catching sight of the girl standing on the sidewalk with her hair pulled back into a curled ponytail, wearing a sleek black dress—I already know that she is far more dangerous like this. Her innocence is like a drug, addictive and heady, and I'm getting used to the high she brings me.
The car slows to a stop, and I pop open the door as she steps up to the side. Her head lifts, and her eyes meet mine, wide and full of... curiosity. Well, that's certainly better than fear. At least, for now. I don't want her to fear me. I want this girl to crave me the same as I do for her.
I stride around the front of the vehicle, and she steps back as I approach. The closer I get, the more her scent invades my space. That sweetness again. I inhale and let it fill my lungs as I lean across her, my fingers locking around the passenger side door's handle.
"Good evening." The words rumble from my throat as I pull the door open for her. "Are you ready?" Cara's tongue pokes out from behind her teeth as she licks across her lower lip and nods. I grant her a smile. "Then let's go."
Cara steps into my car, and I close the door behind her before circling the front once more. Once I'm back in the car, her scent surrounds me even further, practically suffocating me. I can feel my fucking cock straining. Soon. So fucking soon.
* * *
La Mariposa is a sequesteredlittle restaurant that I've frequented in the past. My patronage is well-known and so is that of my family. So, it's no surprise that when I lead Cara into the entrance, the hostess’s eyes widen and dart to the board in front of her.
"Mr. Hale," she says quickly, nodding toward me. "We have your room reserved." She selects two pristine menus, back straight, and turns. "Right this way."
Settling a hand against Cara's spine, feeling the heat of her skin through the fabric of her dress, I push her slightly forward. My eyes catch on her face halfway toward the back room I had specially reserved just for tonight. A blush steals across her cheeks, staining her skin a stunning shade of pink. I catch her eyes sliding toward me, and when she notices my attention, she jerks her head forward once more.
"Here we are, Mr. Hale," the hostess bustles into the private dining room with her menus and places them on either end of a small, cloth-covered table. "Y-Your server will be right with you. Please let us know if you need anything else."
I nod my acknowledgment absently. I have nothing more to give the girl. My entire focus is centered on the woman moving toward our waiting table. My hand goes from her back to her elbow as I draw her up short. Cara's face tilts up, and her lips part in surprise as I lean down.
"Allow me," I offer in a low voice as I release her and then move to pull her chair out for her.
For a moment, as I watch her take her seat, an emotion I'm not used to slides through me. Desire. Want. Need. Craving. I have everything I want. I take whatever else there is to take. But this one...this girl I will seduce. Not because I can't have her any other way, but because I want to see the expression she makes for me when she realizes she wants me as much as I want her.
As she finally sits down in her chair, I cup my hand around the side of her throat, feeling her shiver beneath my hold as I bend slightly. "I'm afraid I've been quite stupid this evening, lovely," I whisper against her skin.
She stiffens. "W-What do you mean?"
"I haven't told you how delicious you look."
Cara clears her throat. "I-I..." Even her little stutter is cute. My mouth waters as I stare at the back of her bare neck. I want to sink my teeth into it, but as the door behind me opens, the sound of a server's cart rattling in the hallway, I realize that now is not the time. It will happen—and soon—I simply must wait for the right moment.
I release her easily enough and take my seat across from her, noting the breath she blows out as our server approaches with a small cart on wheels. "Mr. Hale," the young man says respectfully. "I've brought your usual request—dark red along with a pitcher of ice water." I nod and continue to stare across the table as Cara blushes even harder and lifts her menu as if that'll hide her from me. It won't, but it's amusing to watch her try.
The young man sets down a glass of red wine in front of me and then deposits the rest of the bottle into a small container of ice. "Miss, do you have a preference of—"
"She'll have a glass of red wine as well," I cut him off.
Cara's eyes lift, and her lips part. "I'm not—" she begins.
"You'll have the wine," I tell her, leaning forward. "Trust me."
Her eyes dart to the server as he takes another glass from the cart and begins filling it. He sets it down before her and waits. Cara's gaze jumps from the glass to the server and then back to me as if she's trying to determine if I'm serious or not. Not being old enough is the least of her problems with me. Then again, perhaps I've read her wrong. Perhaps she's been a good girl her whole life and never even had a sip of the forbidden fruit.
Well, even if that's the case, she should recognize that her situation has changed. "Drink," I order.
With shaking fingers, I watch as she leans forward and grasps the glass by the stem, lifting it and bringing it toward her. She tips her head back slightly and puts the rim to her lips. A riotous hunger erupts within me as my eyes settle on those lips of hers. The delicateness of her throat as she swallows a mouthful. She'll swallow more than that before the end of the night.
"It's...good," she finally says.
The server nods and beams brightly. "Wonderful, then I'll leave the bottle here. Would you like some more time to decide on your orders?"
"No." I slide the menu over to him. It was unnecessary to begin with, but I can understand the nervousness of the hostess, and it felt right to give Cara that bit of normalcy. At least for the moment. I turn and meet the server's gaze. His hands tighten on the cart. "She'll have the Rigatoni Martino, and I'll have the steak, rare."
Cara sets her glass down as the server reaches forward and hastily grabs the menus. "Of course sir."
I ignore the boy as he hurries toward the door and disappears to the other side. Cara's head turns as she watches him go, and the snick of the lock clicking into place sounds like the click of a gun right before it's about to go off. I smile.
"Are you nervous?" I ask.
Her attention returns to me just as I wanted it to. "Nervous?" she repeats. "N-No."
I hum as she plays with the table setting in front of her. Her hands contract as she reaches for the wineglass once more. "You know I'm not twenty-one, right?" she determines as she lifts the red back to her lips and takes another sip.
My lips twitch with amusement. "Yes, Cara," I say. "I know."
She sets her glass down, her slender fingers playing with the rim as she eyes the rest of the room. "Why are we here?" she asks.
I raise my eyebrows. "Do you not like it?"
"I didn't say that," she says quickly. "I was just wondering...I mean, you said you wanted..." She trails off as she bites down on her lower lip and drops her gaze to her lap.
"Oh, don't you worry, sweetheart," I say. "We'll get to that."
The food arrives shortly; the plates are set before us, and more wine is poured. Finally, we're alone again. I eat without tasting. I drink without feeling. All I can focus on is what comes after. When she's done with her meal and everything's been cleared away and it's just the two of us—alone in this dark room—I feel as though I can finally breathe. Like I've been waiting for this moment for years.
Cara frowns when more workers come in and begin to remove everything. The tablecloth and the table included. I stand and reach for her hand, pulling her up as they remove her chair as well. "W-What's going on...?"
"Mr. Hale?" The same server who has been with us all night stops before me. "Is there anything else you require?"
"Leave the wine and the cart," I order. "And you may go."
He nods and bows his head ever so slightly before he and the others slip from the room, and once again, we're alone. "Ace?" Cara's sweet voice is like music to my ears. Gentle. Lyrical. Nervous.
I release her and take a seat, reaching for the wineglass I'd been nursing all night from where it rested on the cart. "It's time," I tell her. "To repay me for your life, Cara."
"R-Repay you?"
"Dance," I say. "I want to see you dance for me. Just a dance."
Her arms come up and cross over her front, each hand gripping at the others' elbow. "This is about what you were talking about the night..." She swallows. "The night we met," she finishes. It's even cute how she doesn't verbally admit the truth. The night we met...I chuckle at the thought. She means the night I had her kidnapped. Quite possibly the best mistake I've ever made.
"Yes," I tell her. "One dance and you can go home without having to worry about your next semester's tuition. I think it's a fair price, don't you?" I take a long swallow from my glass and set it down as I lift one leg and cross my ankle over my knee.
She bites her lip as if she's truly considering saying no. I know she's not. For a girl like her—and yes, I had her looked into properly this time—one semester of no worries will be a godsend. Finally, her eyes harden, and she nods.
"The music is over there," I say, gesturing to a small stand set farther back. She looks over her shoulder and then turns, walking toward it.
The sway of her hips entrances me. She's not even dancing yet, and I can feel the blood pounding in my cock. It takes everything in me not to stand and get rid of this whole charade. I can have her now, I know it, but good things come to those who wait, and I want to savor this girl—this woman.
Seconds tick by as I listen to her sift through the music on hand. A button clicks, and finally, the sound of instruments filters into the room. A woman's throaty voice croons from the speakers. Cara reaches down and undoes the straps of her heels, stepping out of them before she moves toward me.
"It's been a while since I've actually danced," she confesses quietly.
"Are you afraid you're not any good?" I ask. She could sway back and forth for an hour, and I'd be entranced, so I suppose it doesn't really matter if she's any good.
"No, it's not that," she says. "I just feel like I'm out of practice."
"Don't think about that," I tell her.
"Then what should I think about?" Perhaps she doesn't realize it, but she's already dancing. Her hips shift from side to side as her body rolls with the rhythm of the song she's put on. I'm fascinated.
My leg drops, and I lean forward, staring at her, watching her, craving her. "Think about what you're making me feel," I tell her, my words rasping from my throat. "Think about how much your audience wants you—with every fucking fiber of their being."
Her eyes widen. Her naughty little tongue comes out, sliding across her lower lip, mocking me. "Okay..." she whispers back. "I'll try that."
Try?I think moments later as I watch her move, her body swaying and shifting, her limbs moving in liquid patterns that just don't make fucking sense. There's no trying in this, only doing. And what she's doing is driving me wild.
Cara dances like a dream, and when she forgets I'm even in the room, it grows hotter. She spins, lifting her arms in a way that pushes her breasts forward. My throat feels dry. More. I want more.
"Take off your dress," I growl.
If she hears me, she doesn't let on, but moments later, she turns to offer me her back as she reaches for the zipper holding her from my sight. It descends, revealing creamy pale flesh. When the fabric falls to her feet, she steps from it and kicks the dress away.
Now in nothing more than a simple black bra and a pair of matching underwear, I see nothing but feast for my eyes. Still, she dances. She dances into two songs and then three—far beyond what I told her I expected. Almost as if she's forgotten our original deal, like she doesn't care anymore and is just enjoying the feel of her body moving on its own.
Then I see it. The muscle in her leg jumps beneath her skin, and when she lands on her next pirouette, she winces.
"Stop," I command.
The spell breaks, but the music continues. I stand from my seat and slowly walk toward her. The closer I get, the more I see. The sweat on her skin, beaded and sliding over her muscles. The flush to her cheeks. She's beautiful like this. No, more than beautiful. She's absolutely enticing.
When I reach her, she doesn't flinch away. Her head tilts back as her eyelids lower. Her chest rises and falls with the rapid breaths she takes. When my hand slides behind her neck and holds her still—immobile and captive for my kiss—she doesn't resist.
Her lips part all on their own, and she accepts my tongue into her mouth. I dive deep, wanting a taste of whatever magic she's spinning around me. Cara's delicate little hands come up and cup the back of my skull as she kisses me back, her tongue twining with mine. A soft moan escapes her, and all it does is make the flames burn hotter.
I want more than that. I want everything she has to give. One of my hands trails down her stomach and pushes past the elastic band of her panties. I grin against her lips as I feel her jerk in surprise a split second before my seeking fingers touch the wetness there. She likes this, probably far more than she wants to admit, but that’s okay. I like a challenge.
"My naughty little dancer liked her secret performance, didn’t she?" I ask as I push two fingers into her depths and curl them upward.
Cara’s lips part on a gasp, and her whole body tightens as she goes up on her toes. Almost as if she’s trying to get away from the sensations I’m calling forth in her, but I’m not going to let that happen. Now that I have her here, there’s no fucking way I’m going to let her go until I see her come apart.
I fuck her soaked little pussy with my fingers, circling her clit with my thumb, relishing in the way her muscles tighten down on the digits, and she squirms. She’s a live wire, this girl, and now she'll dance for me in other ways. I fuck her pussy harder, feeling her tight sheath clench down on my hand as another rush of wetness smears across my fingers and hand.
Her moans grow sharper, louder as she writhes against me. Cara pulls her mouth away from mine, panting and moaning as she shakes her head wildly, trembling in my grasp. That's fine with me, I think as I watch her head tilt back. Whether it’s instinctual or accidental, I don’t care. The fact is, Cara has bared her delicate throat to me, and I can’t pass up such a beautiful invitation. I sink my teeth into the soft side of her throat, and that's when she comes, her body squeezing all of that trembling wet flesh over my hand as she soaks my hand, her juices dripping all over my fingers.
I pull them out and hold them up to her, pressing them against her own lips. “Open,” I command. Wide, surprised eyes meet mine, but she follows my order, and I watch in heated fascination as her plush, pink lips part, and she opens her mouth to take my fingers inside. “Lick my hand clean,” I growl. “Don’t leave a fucking drop, Cara. You made the mess. Time to clean it up.”
Her eyes never leave mine as she does just that. Cara’s tongue flicks against my hand, lapping up her wetness. I almost yank my hand away I’m so jealous. I start to regret my actions. Perhaps, I should’ve done the job myself. She looks like she’s enjoying the taste of her so much, and I bet she tastes like fucking nirvana.
Cara continues to suck her juice from my fingers, cleaning me just like I ordered. Her eyes are wild, the light doing strange things to them. There’s confusion in those depths, almost as if she doesn’t quite understand why she’s doing this, but it’s a compulsion nonetheless. That’s what this is for me. A compulsion. I don’t think I could stop myself even if I tried.
"Good girl," I whisper, my tone gentling. "Now, it's my turn."
I pull my fingers free, letting her feet return to the ground before I wrap an arm around her waist and pull her alongside me. When we reach the chair, I press her down onto her knees and reach for my belt. Those curious eyes of hers follow my movements as I unbuckle, then reach inside my slacks, taking my cock in hand and freeing it to her gaze.
Once again, I relish in the shock on her expression as her mouth drops open and her eyes widen as they descend on what I have gripped in my hand. I’m by no means a small man—in any way—but she’ll be good enough to take me. She took my fingers so well, after all. I know she’s wet enough, and I know she wants this enough. She wants me, and she’ll have me. Her tightness is going to be fucking delicious all over my dick. Impatience sings in my blood.
To cool my ardor, even if for only another second—prolonging this silent battle of wills between us—I clamp my hand around my cock and give it a nice long stroke. Cara seems entranced as if she can’t look away from the movement. Good. I want her focused on me. I want all of her attention right here. I’m not going to take her tonight, so this will have to be enough.
I stroke my cock again for good measure, watching her face, smelling her scent on my fingers. It doesn't take long for my spine to stiffen and the skin over my cock to tighten back as I feel a rush of euphoria come over me. Just as I feel my cock jerk, I grit my teeth and turn, directing the head of my cock to her.
Cara sits there, on her knees, face tilted up, watching me curiously and hungrily as cum erupts from my dick and shoots out. Long streams of white arch between us, landing directly on her chest. I grunt, bending slightly as I continue to stroke myself through my orgasm. Spurt after spurt hits her soft ivory skin until she’s painted in my cum, and it drips down to her nipples.
Her expression contains a mixture of something dark and deviant when I finally refocus on her. That damn curiosity and innocence are so fucking addictive, I want to do more depraved things to her just to see what she’d do. Almost as if that spawns my next actions, though, I reach forward and, with rough fingers, I spread my cum across her skin, trailing down and circling her tight little nipples as they peak under my touch. Dirty, filthy little girl, I think with appreciation just before I move my fingers back up and push them into her mouth once more.
She opens for me easily. What a good little slut. "You look beautiful,” I tell her. “Especially when you’re covered in me.”
